


Hold Me Together

by cebw12



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:18:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6885223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cebw12/pseuds/cebw12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth stays in Mika's trailer for four days before her death. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Together

Beth stayed for four days. It was four days longer than anyone had stayed in her trailer. Four days longer than she had spent with another person for years. Beth slept on her bed. Mika watched her, curled on her chair. The way Beth's lips moved when she breathed. The way her eyebrows knitted together when a breeze blew over her face. The hair was wrong, the thick skin was wrong, but it was the same face. With her eyes closed, Mika could pretend those empty wells weren't really there under her eyelids. Nicky had bright, full eyes. Nicky had eyes with slivers of gold that caught the sun. Sometimes, when Beth was dreaming about something nice enough, light enough, that little smile came back, and Mika had to look away. 

She usually kept the windows closed. Beth liked them open. She said she couldn't breathe. It kept blowing Mika's hair off her cheek, and she kept shrugging it back, almost feeling a violation of privacy when the wind changed and danced over the uneven surface of her skin. She brushed her hair down flat. Again. Trying not to touch the skin underneath. The skin that was untouchable. The skin that she loved. Every goodnight, every goodbye, every see-you-tomorrow, that skin was loved. Nicky had a way like that. She could peck your cheek once or twice, and it would feel loved forever. Even when it had no feeling left. 

Beth woke up in the middle of the night. If Mika had been asleep, it wouldn't have taken much to wake her. She learned fast that sleeping was not a good survival strategy. 

Beth swung her legs over the edge of the bed, eyes squeezed closed, like she was unwilling to come back to consciousness. 

"Do you want anything?" Mika said, over her knee.

She wanted it to be a question. She wanted it to be an offering, but of course it couldn't sound that way. It sounded like something was stuck, like a too-big peace of bread she had swallowed, and she kept swallowing over and over while her eyes tried not to well up.

"Yeah," Beth said, eyes still closed. 

Mika went to her cupboard. She'd gone through the motions over and over, but she still managed to look clumsy.

She brought the glass over to Beth, "35 milliliters crystals to 275 milliliters water."

Beth could make iced tea herself by now, she'd heard the recipe enough times.

She didn't know why she slept so well here. She felt guilty, for coming into Mika's home, taking up space, and then just sleeping, but she was too exhausted to care. She was done with the crying, and she didn't feel much of anything anymore except for a roughness around the edges, tugging at her, threatening to pull her under again.

Mika sat with her, but she didn't want to look in her eyes, she was afraid she would fall in. She had eyes like black holes that took in the world, everything wrong with it, everything wrong with both of them and their sisters, and they kept taking in. Too much. 

"Are you going to go back to work?" Mika examined the blue and violet pattern on her sleeve, tracing the seam.

The edges of Beth's mouth tensed. 

"I can't."

"We need you, Beth."

She wanted to reach over, touch Beth's hand, but she was worried Beth would crumble. Be too fragile. If Beth was broken and fragile, then Mika would be alone again.

"It's useless, you're the one that knows everything," Beth bit off the last syllable, unable to smooth over the the hostility, the blame.

Yes. Yes, Mika knew things. She knew about Nicky. She knew about the bots. And she knew that Beth wasn't strong enough to hear any of it. Beth. The detective, with the black holes for eyes and wavering voice. Yes. Mika couldn't tell her any of it.

Beth had to hold onto something. The colors in Mika's trailer suddenly pissed her off. Why do you have orange, purple, blue, sheets hanging as curtains, felted sweaters, pastel ribbons on the necks of stuffed animals. She was spinning in a periscope. Was her vision warped by this new color, or by the grays, the whites, the blacks, that lined her hallways and her sleep? 

Beth needs, she needs, she needs. She doesn't want. She is not selfish, but with the constant pull that went from her fingertips to her core, there was also a magnetic feeling that surrounded her. It brought everyone in her life to her. Without trying, without knowing. 

Maybe it was that pull. The draw to those empty eyes, the sadness in Mika's chest or the scratchiness in her throat. Maybe it was the fear. The instinct, mostly to protect herself. Beth was shaking, crumbling, falling. Mika needed the connection Beth gave her. To the world. When she talked about work, the sky, Paul, Mika listened, and she wasn't so alone. Beth was falling apart, and maybe that's why Mika took the chance.

First it was brushing hands. Mika had strong hands. It was hands on her shoulder, her cheek, that held Beth together. 

They were swinging in Newton's Cradle. They swung together, an organized collision that always followed the same path. They swung apart, and there was silence and empty space and a room filled with vacancy. But always, always, they were moving. Moving one way or the other. 

Mika kissed with her hands. Her body was stronger than it looked, and she spoke in a language of awkward touch, hesitance. 

Beth poured herself out through her mouth, never, never in words. 

Mika's tongue tasted like lemonade.


End file.
